


Love Pending

by pseudo_EM



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 3rd years as 1st years, Appendicitis, Canon Universe, Fluff, Hospitalization, I need help, I tried to be punny with the title, Iwaizumi has appendicitis, Love, M/M, Mattsun and Makki are the two bestfriends that anyone could have, Pending/Appendicitis - get it?, Pining, Romantic Fluff, Sick Character, Stubborn!Iwaizumi, and Oikawa panics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-26 00:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13846149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudo_EM/pseuds/pseudo_EM
Summary: Oikawa vaguely sees from the corner of his eye that the ball travels across the court, but Oikawa doesn’t move into position to set the receive; in fact he doesn’t move at all.Something flickers in Iwaizumi’s expression – something not good, and instead of landing on his two feet, Iwaizumi crashes down in a heap onto the shiny floor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote another story, yay me. 
> 
> Hopefully, it'll only be a 2 chapter fic - I think I would be well and truly be spiraling out of control if I start another multi fic >.<
> 
> Enjoy ^_^

When Iwaizumi sits up in his bed, lifting his arms up in a stretch over his head, a weird, sharp pain makes itself known in his lower abdomen. 

“What the?”

Grunting in surprise, Iwaizumi lifts the hem of his t-shirt up to inspect the area. There’s nothing noteworthy there; no bruising or swelling, or even any bleeding (he notes the last one with wild relief). Iwaizumi swings his legs around so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, a slight furrow in his brow as he tries to self-diagnose his ailment. He remembers that there had been a dull ache the night before below his bellybutton, which he passed off as just a general tummy ache from either eating something weird or putting off going to the toilet for too long. But now that he thinks about it, he hadn’t strayed all that much from his usual diet...perhaps some viral gastro thing was going around, or worse still maybe he pulled a muscle or something at volleyball practice yesterday afternoon?

_Shit, that’s all I need._

Before he can dig deeper, his bedroom door swings open.

He doesn’t even have to look up to know who it is.

“Good morning, Iwa-chan! Rise and shine!” Oikawa steps into his room, already dressed in his Aoba Johsai practice gear, beaming much too brightly for someone who is up so early. 

“How many times have I told you to knock?” Iwaizumi mutters, standing up. He can’t help but notice that the pain is still there, settling low on the right side of his abdomen.

“Were you doing something you didn’t want me to see?” Oikawa ponders; his thumb and forefinger coming to resting underneath his chin. “Now, now, Iwa-chan, it’s nothing to be ashamed of! It’s normal for teenage boys to—”

“Yeah, it’s called sleeping.” he quips back, shovelling through his wardrobe for his practice uniform. He slips off his sleepwear and puts on his uniform behind the opened door of his wardrobe, purposely out of Oikawa’s view.

Lately, being around Oikawa makes Iwaizumi feel a little...nervous. It’s stupid – he’s known the guy since before they could walk, but every time they lock eyes or Oikawa rests his head on his shoulder, or they fist bump after a point in their favour, or even when Oikawa comes up to his room every morning like clockwork to ‘make sure he hasn’t slept through his alarm’, his heart feels like it’s going to rip its way out of his chest but in a good way. He could lie to himself and say he doesn’t know what the hell it all means, but he’s not as dense as he is sometimes known to be. These feelings had been slowly creeping up on him like a thief in the night, and Iwaizumi isn’t quite sure what to do about it.

“Is that what it’s called these days?” Oikawa muses reaching down to pick up Iwaizumi’s school bag and handing it over to him as he approaches.

“This conversation needs to stop.” Iwaizumi reaches over to give Oikawa a little nudge to get him to move along, but the pain shoots up his side, causing him to halt abruptly and hiss.

Of course it doesn’t escape Oikawa’s hawk-like gaze. He pauses, studying Iwaizumi from head to toe with a very serious expression on his face, “What was that? Are you okay?”

“It’s nothing.” he says defensively, walking past him, “C’mon, let’s get breakfast and go.”

As they eat breakfast – Iwaizumi taking small bites and giving up on more than half of his meal, and then as they walk to school – Iwaizumi walker slower than usual and favouring his right side, he knows Oikawa is most definitely going to badger him about it later.

 

****

 

_Something’s wrong with Hajime._

There’s no doubt it, Oikawa thinks as he goes through today’s catalogue of Iwaizumi’s Odd Behaviour. First it had been his lack of appetite during breakfast and when Iwaizumi figuratively – or was it literally, started pulling his punches when it came to physically reprimanding Oikawa. To the untrained eye, Iwaizumi’s playing style at morning practice appeared to be what it had always been – dependable and strong, and while Oikawa couldn’t really fault him, he couldn’t help but notice how gingerly Iwaizumi had approached his run-ups and jumps. Since Iwaizumi and he weren’t in the same class – for the first time in their schooling careers, he couldn’t monitor Iwaizumi, and instead resorted to internally worrying and hypothesising the possible reason as to why Iwaizumi was acting so strangely.

Currently at lunchtime, Iwaizumi’s strange behaviour was still in full swing, but this time it seemed to have gotten worse. He no longer has an appetite, giving his bento box to Matsukawa Issei – a fellow 1st year and member of the Aoba Johsai Volleyball club like Hanamaki Takahiro who was also sitting with them, spouting off some excuse about saving his stomach for the big dinner his mother was cooking tonight. He had also declined to participate in a game of soccer some of the other first and second year boys had started up on the field adjacent to where they were sitting.

“That’s unlike you, Iwaizumi. You never pass up the chance to show-off your legendary athleticism.” Hanamaki jests. He was still salty about the fact he had lost another arm-wrestling match against the other boy.

“I’m feeling pretty tired.” Iwaizumi responds unperturbed, sitting in an upright foetal position.

“Tell me about it,” Matsukawa stretches out on his back, spreading out his arms and legs to make him look like a starfish, “both morning and afternoon practice is exhausting. Plus all the homework is a bitch. High school is a bitch.”

“You got that right,” Hanamaki groans, flopping onto his side a bit dramatically, “thank god for Monday rest days. Maybe we should petition for Wednesday rest days too. I’m buggered.”

Iwaizumi hums weakly, resting the side of his face on his knees, closing his eyes.

Oikawa peels his eyes away from Iwaizumi and addresses Hanamaki, “Makki, how could you say that? Didn’t you say you wanted to make first string?”

“It was the heat of the moment,” he retorts, “besides, the second and third years are way too good.”

The bell rings signifying that lunch is over, which is followed by exaggerated groans from Matsukawa and Hanamaki.

One by one they get up, all except for Iwaizumi who’s still sitting there.

“Oi, Iwaizumi. I know class sucks, but it’s time to go.” Hanamaki says sympathetically, turning towards the school building.

Oikawa watches as Iwaizumi slowly stands up, wincing as he does so. He’s not standing at his full height, hunching over in a way that makes him look almost pitiful.

“Iwa-chan, what’s wrong?”

“Like I said before, it’s nothing. Just feeling a little tired is all.”

Oikawa draws himself to his full height, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Don’t lie. I know it’s more than that, it looks like you’re in pain.”

“I think I must have strained a muscle. It’s fine, really.”

Oikawa sighs, it looks like he didn’t have to drag it out of Iwaizumi after all, “A rest from Wednesday practice doesn’t sound like such a bad idea; it wouldn’t hurt for you to have a break.”

“I said it was fine. I’ll take it easy at practice, stretch for a bit longer. If it doesn’t go away within a week, I’ll go to doctor or a physiotherapist or something. Now let’s get going, sensei will have my head if I’m late.”

Oikawa follows after Iwaizumi, but there’s still something niggling away at his gut; something that’s telling him he shouldn’t be appeased so easy.

 

****

 

When afternoon practice rolls around, Iwaizumi feels far worse than he had in the morning. It makes no sense; he’s been sitting down in class for the majority of the day, had taken it easy during morning practice and had hardly eaten anything. So why does it feel like his stomach is about to burst?

It would be smart to just tell the coach he was feeling unwell – he’d probably be allowed to go home without any problems, but he is a first year that still has to prove his worth to the team. How was he going to make first string as a wing spiker, how’s he going to be an ace worthy of the title if he couldn’t toughen up and get through a little pain?

So he grins and bears it and tries really hard to mask his discomfort in front of the coaches, his teammates and Oikawa – especially Oikawa. Oikawa is still hovering around like a second shadow though; obviously not convinced that Iwaizumi is fine. As considerate as it is it isn’t doing Iwaizumi any favours, he wants to play – knows he can play, and if Oikawa kept up his mother hen behaviour, the coaches were surely going to notice.

“I’m fine, now go do your stretches, Shittykawa.” he barks from the floor. He reaches out with his left hand to touch the tip of his left foot and can’t help the flinch that rattles his body when the stretch burns more than it should along his right side.

“I think you should go home.” Oikawa insists. He doesn’t react to the nickname, which is telling of how focussed he is on Iwaizumi’s wellbeing.

“I’ll go home if it gets worse. I’m well enough to play.”

“You can barely get through the stretches.” Oikawa remarks dryly, not impressed.

“Alright, gather around.” Mizoguchi’s yell echoes through the gym.

Iwaizumi gets up quickly despite the protest in his side and follows the rest of the team to where the coaches Mizoguchi and Irihata are standing. He gives Oikawa a sharp look as he passes him though and says, “Don’t say anything to the coaches, you hear? I’m seriously okay.”

In a loosely formed semi-circle, the team surrounds the coaches. Irihata gives an overview of the training regime for the afternoon, which involves the team starting with a practice match instead of finishing with one.

“This is because,” Mizoguchi highlights as he scribbles something on his clipboard, “we want to run through a few plays and flesh them out before our next official practice match. Afterwards we can focus on the specific things players need to fine tune.”  

Iwaizumi half-listens, not really expecting to play an active part in the match considering the third and second years were in full attendance, but when Irihata calls out his name when he’s allocating members to either of the two playing teams, he snaps to attention.

It’s after Irihata and Mizoguchi finish the discussion and order the team to get a move on to start the match, does Iwaizumi realise he’s been placed on the team with the team’s first string setter. He’s a little awed – a first year like him being on the team with the majority of the starting line up.

_I can’t let this opportunity go to waste. I’ve got to show the coaches what I’ve got!_

“You look pale, Iwaizumi-kun! Don’t worry, we don’t bite.” the captain chuckles, patting him on the back. Iwaizumi chuckles weakly in response, hiding the grimace that threatens to form on his face as he twists awkwardly in response to the captain’s pat, “Uh, it’s a pleasure to play with you.”

“Right back at you, Iwaizumi-kun,” the setter responds kindly, “I’ll make sure to send them high your way. That’s the way you like em’, right?”

Iwaizumi’s team quickly huddle together, talk tactics and call out a few words of engagement before getting into position. He walks to his spot in front of the net, eyes catching Oikawa on the other side. It would appear he’s filling in as setter for the other team, Iwaizumi notes fondly. Knowing how hard and how dedicated Oikawa was, it probably wouldn’t take long for him to make first string as the team’s official setter.

_All the more reason why I have to give it my all._

****

 

It’s after his team has won the first set, does Oikawa realise how much Iwaizumi is really suffering. He’s sweating profusely – which normally wouldn’t come as a surprise to him considering everyone was giving it their all, but he’s also looks white and clammy and even a little bit dazed at times. He’s not playing to his full potential either – although he’s desperately trying to put the effort in, and Oikawa can’t help but notice how whenever Iwaizumi tries to reach up and hit a spike he’s falls short, either missing or flubbing the ball over the net.

The first string setter is apologetic, telling Iwaizumi he’s sorry for not syncing with him properly and promising to give him lower tosses so he can reach better, but Oikawa knows better. Iwaizumi isn’t hitting the tosses because he can’t reach, he’s missing them because whenever he stretches up for a toss it’s painful, and Oikawa would bet all the milk bread at the local bakery that if he walked over to Iwaizumi right now and poked him gently in the side, Iwaizumi would probably faint from the pain of it.

 _Enough is enough,_ Oikawa avows to himself, crouching into a lunge while one of his teammates starts running up for their serve, _after this point I’m telling the coaches. Sorry Hajime, but this is ridiculous._

The point drags out, much to Oikawa’s displeasure. Their team does a quick, but somehow Iwaizumi’s team manages to pick it up with no trouble; setting the ball to their third year ace who spikes a very clean straight. Their libero manages to receive it, but it’s off, so Oikawa decides to safely set it to the third year wing spiker, who aims for the back-middle area on the other side of the court just in front of the base line.

Iwaizumi picks it up – much to Oikawa surprise, but the movement is a little messy and Oikawa can’t help but look away from the ball and stare at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi manages to recover from the dive, but he’s moving sluggishly; feet dragging as he and the other spikers start to run altogether in the direction of the net. All of the spikers jump up together, but the ball goes to Iwaizumi, who has managed to jump higher than he has all day. His palm hits the ball dead centre and Oikawa vaguely sees from the corner of his eye that the ball travels across the court, but Oikawa doesn’t move into position to set the receive; in fact he doesn’t move at all.

Something flickers in Iwaizumi’s expression – something not good, and instead of landing on his two feet, Iwaizumi crashes down in a heap onto the shiny floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't give Iwaizumi a break, huh? #sorrynotsorry  
> Smash the kudos, comment, subscription and any other buttons! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was going to be 2 chapters, but now it's 3...
> 
> Enjoy ^_^

Oikawa is the first person to reach Iwaizumi’s side.

He can faintly hear someone shout out his name – maybe one of the coaches, as he ducks under the net, his hair skimming along the tape on the bottom as he makes his way to the other side of the court. He practically falls to his knees next to Iwaizumi; one of hands coming to rest on Iwaizumi’s shoulder while the other settles on his right hip above where Iwaizumi’s hands are clutching his lower abdomen.

“Iwaizumi, what’s wrong?” his eyes dart frantically over Iwaizumi’s almost prone form.

Through clenched teeth, Iwaizumi lets out a sharp intake of breath, “It hurts. It fucking hurts.”

“I’m here,” Oikawa assures, squeezing Iwaizumi’s shoulder, “I’m here.”

Oikawa senses someone come up beside him and turns to see Coach Irihata settling into a crouch. “Iwaizumi, what happened?”

“Coach.” Iwaizumi huffs, trying to sit up but Oikawa gently pushes him down so he doesn’t further strain himself. “Don’t get up, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says firmly then turns to Irihata, “He’s been in pain for the majority of the day; from what he’s told me, Iwaizumi thinks he’s pulled a muscle in this area.” Oikawa gestures to where Iwaizumi is clutching the lower right side of his abdomen.

Oikawa moves over a little as Irihata sidles in closer to regard the ‘injury’ site. Iwaizumi reluctantly takes his hands away, and Irihata takes this as permission to tentatively peel his shirt up slightly. The first thing Oikawa sees is that the area looks a little swollen, but the view is quickly obstructed as Irihata’s three middle fingers come to rest on the area of swelling, palpating it. Iwaizumi withdraws even further into himself, arms flailing back to his right side. Oikawa reaches out to clasp one of Iwaizumi’s hands in his own, not even feeling the pain when he squeezes tightly.

 _I have to be strong for Hajime,_ he urges himself, grasping tighter.

With a pensive look on his face, Irihata stands up and motions to Mizoguchi, who is standing opposite of them, “Call an ambulance.”

“What?” Oikawa chokes as Mizoguchi immediately reaches for his mobile and starts dialling. Now that he’s looking up and away from Iwaizumi, does he notice his teammates crowding around with bewildered expressions on their faces; he hadn’t even heard them gathering around.

Mizoguchi – who had been chatting away on the phone, looks up to tell Irihata the ambulance is on its way. Irihata clears his throat, addressing the rest of the team, “I need two of you to go to the front entrance to look out for the ambulance. Once they arrive, please escort them to the gymnasium. The rest of you start tidying up the gym, practice is over. You’re all free to leave once you’ve finished.”

Two second years run off toward gymnasium exit, while the rest start efficiently cleaning the gym by collecting volley balls, gathering the nets and poles and wiping down the floor all the while giving the four of them a lot of space.

For the next twenty minutes the coaches and Oikawa don’t leave Iwaizumi’s side. Mizoguchi and Irihata talk back and forth to the dispatcher on the phone, while Oikawa softly reassures his friend and occasionally adds something to the discussion the coaches are having with the dispatcher.

He should’ve done something sooner. How stupid was he to have just let it go this far? Of all the times he said his knee was fine when it really wasn’t, Iwaizumi still stopped him from practicing and made him rest. And now that the roles were reversed Oikawa had done nothing; he had failed his friend.

_I’m such an idiot._

The squeaking of shoes on the gymnasium floor alerts him to the arrival of the paramedics. They leave a stretcher at the outskirts of the gym and stroll towards the four of them casually with their bags in tow. Oikawa reluctantly leaves Iwaizumi’s side as the three of them give the paramedics space to work on Iwaizumi. They check his blood pressure and his oxygen levels, ask concise, direct questions, then start dutifully assessing his abdomen; pressing more purposely and slightly harder than Irihata had. Oikawa bites his lip as Iwaizumi groans deeply and cowers away from the touch.  

The paramedics talk among themselves for a little while before one of them stands and makes their way back to the stretcher. The other one swivels around in their kneeling position on the ground and faces them, “Iwaizumi-san has got to go hospital right away. It’s highly likely he has appendicitis – there’s a considerable risk that his appendix could burst.”

Irihata and Mizoguchi nod and start talking to the paramedic, while the paramedic’s partner comes back with the stretcher to load Iwaizumi onto it. The paramedics still answer a couple of the coach’s questions as they get Iwaizumi settled onto the stretcher. They insert a cannula into the back of Iwaizumi’s hand and cover his body with a crisp, white, hospital blanket. He looks so...small, and while Oikawa normally teases Iwaizumi for being shorter than him, this version of his friend is heartbreaking. He’s still lying in the foetal position, curled into a ball, his upper body rising and falling slowly as his breathes in and out. His tanned skin looks pale, and his face is sweaty and haggard.

And there’s nothing Oikawa can do to help him.

“I’m going to be sick.” Iwaizumi rasps suddenly. One of paramedics quickly plucks a vomit bag from their pack and hands it to Iwaizumi who starts retching into the bag, his arms trembling a little. Oikawa rushes towards him and helps him hold the bag with one hand and rubs his back with the other.

Oikawa looks across at his coaches and only just now notices that Mizoguchi has walked a few metres away and is on the phone again talking to someone, while Irihata is wrapping up the conversation with the paramedics. Below him, Iwaizumi has stopped vomiting and is lying back on the stretcher, eyes drooping.

“It’s time we got moving. I’ll take that.” one of the paramedics says as he takes the vomit bag off Oikawa and starts walking toward the exit. The other paramedic starts pushing the stretcher, and Oikawa watches as Iwaizumi is wheeled away. Instinctively he starts following after Iwaizumi, but Irihata places a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

“I’ll ride along in the ambulance to the hospital, Oikawa-kun.”

“But I—”

“I respect that you and Iwaizumi-kun are close friends, but they will need an adult there to fill out paperwork and make informed decisions. Plus, I think you need a moment to calm down – you’re shaking.” Oikawa snaps his gaze to his hands and sees his hands are shaking to the point that they’re almost blurry. He hadn’t even felt it.  

Irihata claps his hand on Oikawa’s shoulder, “Mizoguchi is getting in contact with Iwaizumi’s parents. Once he’s finished, Mizoguchi will be more than happy to drive to you to the hospital they’re taking Iwaizumi to.”

Oikawa feels an overwhelming amount of gratitude for his coaches and nods his head solemnly, “Thank you, Coach.”

“I best be off.” Irihata says as he walks off after the paramedics.

Oikawa stands there in the middle of the court as Mizoguchi’s voice echoes through the gymnasium as he converses to Iwaizumi’s parents, and for a moment he thinks he’s all alone save for the coach, until he hears a small cough somewhere behind him. Standing together by the storage room door with their bags slung over their shoulders is Matsukawa and Hanamaki. Before Oikawa can even acknowledge them, they’re coming over – each of them taking a moment to pick up another sports bag.

“You okay, Oikawa?” Hanamaki asks. Oikawa immediately notices that the other two bags they had with them are his and Iwaizumi’s – he knows this because of the alien and space-themed vs. Godzilla badges and key rings present on either bag.

He still doesn’t know Hanamaki and Matsukawa all that well, and should probably give them his everything-is-fine-megawatt-smile and tell them he’s alright, but in addition to feeling floored that the two had waited for him – and had gotten his and Iwaizumi’s bags, he’s too emotionally drained by the afternoon’s events to fake it.

“To be honest, I’m not.” he sighs.

“That’s understandable. What did the paramedics say? Will Iwaizumi be alright?” Matsukawa inquires.

Oikawa honestly doesn’t know if Iwaizumi is going to be alright so he shrugs and says “The paramedics said it was probably appendicitis. They also said they were worried Iwa-chan’s appendix could burst so he really needs to go to hospital.”

The three talk for a little while until Mizoguchi joins them. He tells them that he had gotten a hold of Iwaizumi’s parents and that they’re both on their way to the hospital. He also offers to drive all three of them to the hospital as well, but only Oikawa accepts.

“I’m sorry, but my parents are expecting me home.” Matsukawa replies sheepishly.

“I need to get home too; the family is going out for my dad’s birthday tonight.” Hanamaki adds, “Otherwise I would come.”

They say their goodbyes to Oikawa and Mizoguchi, and send their well wishes to Iwaizumi before each pair go off in separate directions.

 

****

 

When they had gotten there, Irihata had explained to them that Iwaizumi had already been taken away for emergency surgery after having a few tests done. It had been confirmed that Iwaizumi did indeed have appendicitis and would be undergoing an appendectomy – a procedure that involved the removal of his appendix. The three of them had sat down in a waiting room, and Oikawa had quickly texted his parents to alert them as to what was going on. His mother had immediately replied back, asking him for specifics and when he wanted her to come to the hospital to pick him up. He answered to the best of his ability despite feeling a little overwhelmed by the whole situation and didn’t specify on a pick up time – he didn’t plan on leaving the hospital if Iwaizumi was going to be stuck there all night. He puts his phone on silent and slips it into his bag and sits there silently, eyes flickering from the TV with bad reception mounted on the wall at the front of the room and the other patrons sitting down. 

It’s a dreary place to be, Oikawa can’t help but think. The walls are painted beige and while there are magazines, two vending machines and framed photographs of Okinawa’s beaches hanging up on the walls to give the room a bit of colour and life, it still feels much too clinical. The chairs aren’t very comfortable either.

Less than an hour later Iwaizumi’s mother and father arrive.

“Tooru. Sweetheart.” Iwaizumi’s mother smiles with relief, pulling Oikawa into a hug just as he stands up.

“Oba-san.” he says returning the hug. Over her shoulder he sees Iwaizumi’s father bowing to the coaches before he locks eyes with Oikawa, “Oji-san.”

“Tooru.” he returns coming over and giving him a pat on the shoulder, “how are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” he lies; he still feels like his heart is going to skyrocket up through his throat and out of his mouth, “Just worried about Iwa-chan.”

At this point Irihata steps in and starts explaining the situation. He tells them that Iwaizumi had collapsed during practice because he had been in pain – which had prompted him to call an ambulance, and finishes with giving them a rundown on what the doctors and nurses had told him before Iwaizumi had been taken away for surgery. Oikawa watches as Iwaizumi’s parents take it all in. Like their son, Iwaizumi’s parents are steadfast, resilient people, but Oikawa can see the hints of anxiousness and worry in their demeanour; it’s the way Iwaizumi’s father runs his hand through his hair intermittently and how his mother bits her bottom lip and knots her fingers tighter around the strap of her handbag.

They all sit down together in the waiting room on the poorly cushioned, bolted down waiting chairs. Iwaizumi’s mother holds his hand for a bit and murmurs to him quietly, which is soothing for the both of them. At some stage Iwaizumi’s father and Mizoguchi offer to go off to get drinks from the vending machines for everyone, and although Oikawa had declined, Iwaizumi’s dad still tosses him a can of Pocari Sweat.

It’s another two hours before someone comes to speak with them. The person introduces themselves as the surgeon who had performed the emergency surgery on Iwaizumi.

“The surgery went well,” the surgeon starts, mainly addressing the adults. Their group of five lets out a collective sigh of relief, and Oikawa feels 100 pounds lighter. “We carried out what we call a laproscopic appendectomy. Several small incisions were made in the abdomen: one was made so we could insert a tiny camera to help find then visualise the appendix as we performed the surgery; and the other two were made to allow the use of instruments to remove the appendix.”

“So it didn’t burst?” Iwaizumi’s mother asks.

“No, but if we had left it for another couple of hours it would have.”

“Can we see him?” Oikawa pipes in from behind Iwaizumi’s parents.

“At this stage I’m afraid not. We would like to keep an eye on him in recovery for a while longer, since the effects of the anaesthetic still haven’t worn off. Plus, his fluids and electrolytes are a little low, so we have him on an IV until they balance out. After that, we’ll transfer him to another ward, as we would like to keep him here overnight for observation. ”   

“So how long is my son going to stay in hospital for?” Iwaizumi dad folds his arms across his chest.

“At this stage it should be just for tonight, unless there are any complications. The advantage of the laproscopic procedure over other approaches is that patients generally have a shorter stay in hospital, as well as less pain postoperatively and can return to normal activity quicker.”

“Hajime plays volleyball; lives and breathes the sport, like his friend here,” his mother juts her thumb at Oikawa, “I’m assuming he won’t be able to play seriously for a while.”

“That’s correct. I advise that he takes at least two weeks off from volleyball so he can fully recover. It may end up being longer than two weeks. He should probably take the rest of the week off from school as well, so he can spend the next few days as well as the weekend recuperating.”

Oikawa grimaces at that. He can’t picture Iwaizumi sitting out from volleyball for more than two weeks; his friend was more stubborn than him.

“Thank you, doctor.” Iwaizumi’s parents bow and Oikawa follows suit along with the coaches. The doctor tells them a nurse will notify them when Hajime is well enough to shift wards, says his goodbyes then leaves. Not long after the coaches say their own goodbyes until it’s just Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s parents and a few other patrons in the waiting room at almost 9 o’clock at night.

He’s getting more and more restless as the minutes tick by. Every time a nurse walks by or comes into the room Oikawa almost leaps out of his seat only to have his hopes crushed when they don’t even spare the three of them a glance. It’s as he whips around for what feels like the one hundredth time as someone enters the room does he come to face a person he recognises all too well.

“Oka-san?”

“Don’t you check your phone, Tooru?” his mother admonishes, waltzing over, “I tried to call you, surely you could’ve spared ten minutes to let me know whereabouts in the hospital you were waiting, and if you were okay and if Iwaizumi is okay. I was worried sick.” He sinks low into the chair, feeling every bit like the child she is treating him like, “Sorry. I had it on silent.”

“What am I going to do with you?” she sighs, cuffing him affectionately on the head. As she turns to Iwaizumi’s parents, she does a complete 180; concerned expression on her face as she fires off questions about Iwaizumi and his condition.

Oikawa zones out. All he wants to do is see Iwaizumi; to see if he is okay. Even though he feels grimy from the dry sweat that had settled into his practice clothes, is hungry – he hasn’t had anything to eat since lunch, and is exhausted from the gruelling day of school, practice and the whole ‘witnessing his beloved friend collapse during afternoon volleyball practice’, none of it matters when Hajime is somewhere in the hospital in a bed hooked up to tubes and machines, alone and confused without a familiar face to provide comfort and support.

“Let’s go home, Tooru. It’s getting pretty late.”

Oikawa jolts up and splutters incredulously, “But I want to stay, oka-san. I want to see Iwa-chan when he comes out of recovery.”

“Hajime-kun will probably be in recovery for a while. It could be at least another hour before he’s well enough to be transferred to another ward. You have school tomorrow Oikawa.”  

“But I want to stay.” he whines. He sounds pitiful he knows, but he doesn’t think he could go without seeing Iwaizumi before he leaves the hospital; he has waited so long. Out of the corner of his eye he sees another nurse trot by and he decides to take action.

“Excuse me,” he calls, chasing after her. He stops at the waiting room door as the nurse comes to a stop to face the person who had flagged her down.

“Sorry for interrupting you while you’re busy but I was wondering if it were possible to see my friend? He’s name is Iwaizumi Hajime? He had surgery this afternoon but is now in recovery somewhere. I’ve been waiting all afternoon, but I can’t stay much longer.”

The nurse starts backpedalling away from him, “I’m sorry, but if a patient is in recovery, we generally don’t allow visitors through.”

Oikawa starts following after her, a little peeved she’s trying to walk away while he’s talking to her, “I understand, but please, I just want a glimpse, a tiny weenie glimpse to see he’s okay. Please?”

“Look I—”

“I’m begging you,” in one last act of desperation, he lowers himself to the ground into a dogeza, “I just want to see my friend. That’s all.”   

“Tooru, get off the floor.” his mother hisses.

He waits, his head still facing the floor until the nurse clears her throat awkwardly.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He snaps his head up as the nurse walks over to a phone mounted on the wall. His mother yanks him up from the floor berating him for doing something so dramatic, as well as reminding him that this is a hospital and who knows how unhygienic the floor is, until the nurse comes over and gives him an exasperated look.

“You can see your friend for a minute, but that’s it. Follow me.”

He leaves his mother and Iwaizumi’s parents behind as he follows after the nurse, feeling a little embarrassed now that a few of the other people in the corridor are looking at him oddly. The nurse takes him to the elevator where they go up two floors to the ward Iwaizumi is in. They walk to a set of fire doors and the nurses fiddles with her lanyard so she can swipe a card to open them. They walk through and the nurse leads him to a nurse’s station.

“Wait here a moment.” she instructs. She wanders behind the desk to another older nurse whose jotting something down, and says something that Oikawa can’t make out. The older nurse appraises him over the rim of her glasses, then sets down her pen and walks over to him. She looks a little grumpy, he observes worriedly.

“Follow me.” she grunts, walking by him towards another smaller corridor.

The nurse takes him to a line-up of curtained off rooms and stops outside a section beside the wall. She pulls the curtain back and Oikawa moves forward to look in.

Lying on the hospital bed is Iwaizumi. There’s an IV drip set up next to his bed as well as a heart monitor beeping softly above the head of the bed. He is sleeping soundly, his chest rising up and down steadily. He looks a little better than he did when Oikawa last saw him, but he still looks a little pale and exhausted.

 _But he's okay_ , he tells himself as he eyes follow Iwaizumi’s frame underneath the hospital blankets and gown.

So why does he feel so sad?

“Iwaizumi-san should be moving to the other ward soon, we’re doing the paperwork now. He’s doing much better now.” the nurse informs him. She then steps closer to him and urges him forward into the room. “I’ll give you a couple of minutes with your friend.”

“Huh.” he says intelligently. He didn’t think he would be allowed that long.

“It’s not every day a person begs to see a loved one while in a dogeza position.” she has a look in her eye – like she’s seizing him up, but then she looks away and chuckles wistfully. Before he can speculate further she lets out a sigh “Go on now, you really shouldn’t be here. And don’t touch anything.”

“Uh, yes. And thank you.” he says sincerely.

She potters off and Oikawa steps cautiously into the room, sidling around the side of the bed that’s free of machines and clutter. He feels a little apprehensive – scared he’ll bump something or hurt Hajime, but he still carefully reaches out and curls his hand around Iwaizumi’s free hand.

“Iwa-chan.” he whispers.

There’s no response.

He eyes Iwaizumi’s profile. His eyes are shut, but occasionally an eyelid twitches. There’s also no furrow in his brow – for once, and his dry lips are parted as he breathes in and out. He eyes shift down to the wristband on Iwaizumi’s wrist and slides it around his arm so he can read it.

_Patient: Iwaizumi Hajime_

_DOB: June 10 1994_

_Sex: M_

_MRN: 998413904_

_Nil allergies_

“You had me so worried, you idiot.” He feels a lump build up in his throat and swallows it down and wipes at his watery eyes with his other hand. He probably doesn’t have much time left until he has to go – plus he shouldn’t keep his mother or Iwaizumi’s parents waiting any longer, so he releases Iwaizumi’s hand.

Before he walks back to the nurse’s station, he leans over the bed and places a feather-light kiss to Iwaizumi’s forehead.  

“Goodnight, Hajime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smash the kudos, comment, subscription and any other buttons! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last installment for Love Pending! 
> 
> Thanks for all the love, everyone - I really appreciate all the lovely feedback ^_^

The following morning right before eleven o’clock, Iwaizumi gets discharged from hospital.

It all happens rather quickly; one minute the surgeon is talking to him about the outcomes of the surgery and post-op management, then a nurse comes around with paperwork for him and his parents to sign and a care package to take home and he’s been given the all clear.

He insists on walking with his parents back to the car; his pride has suffered enough over the last twenty four hours, so yeah, he’s going to decline the wheelchair. Once settled in the backseat, he drifts off as his father drives them back home, waking up after what feels like seconds later when the car pulls into the driveway. His mother ushers him upstairs to his bedroom, and there’s no argument from him as she pulls back the covers on his bed and orders him to get some rest. He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

When Iwaizumi wakes up, it’s almost a little after three in the afternoon. He still feels groggy from his nap, but the emptiness in his stomach compels him to get up and get something to eat. As soon as he sets foot into the kitchen his mother shoos him away and tells him she’ll get him something if he promises to go back to his room and take it easy. He grudgingly walks back to his bedroom after making a quick detour to the bathroom and plonks himself onto the bed.

He sits there idly; feeling useless as much as he does restless, until his mother comes up with a snack and a drink.

“How are you feeling, honey?” she asks.

“A lot better.” he grunts as he sits up so his back is against the bed’s headboard.

“Are you in any pain?”

It is a tad sore, but if he tells his mother that she’ll fret, “Not much.”

“Did you want to take something for it? You do have the prescription from the hospital.” his mother sets down the food tray over his thighs and Iwaizumi marvels at the spread of food. It’s been almost a day since he last had something proper to eat.

“I’m fine, oka-san.” he insists, picking up the glass of water and having a sip. His mother fiddles with the blinds to let more natural light into the room and slides the window open a bit more.

“Thanks, oka-san.”

His mother comes to sit beside him on the bed, and smooths her fingers through his hair. “I’m just glad you’re okay, honey.”

“To be honest, I don’t remember much about what happened.” Iwaizumi admits.

“I’m afraid I only know what the coaches and Tooru-kun told me, the three of them were at the hospital by the time your father and I got there.” 

“Oikawa was at the hospital?”

“Mhmm, he stayed there until you were moved to recovery.” 

 _Of course he did._ Why would he even ask that question when he already knew the answer?

“He didn’t eat or drink anything, except for the Pocari Sweat your father made him have, and no one could get a peep out of him either until he begged the nurse to let him see you.”

“He did what?”

“Tooru-kun asked a nurse if he could see you while in recovery. Apparently, visitors aren’t allowed to see patients while they’re in recovery, but Tooru-kun literally got onto his hands and knees and begged her to let him see you.”

 _Oikawa,_ he thinks.

From what he vaguely remembers, Oikawa had been at his side until the paramedics took him away. He had held his hand and had murmured soft words of reassurance while he had been curled up in pain on the gym floor, and later had rubbed his back as he vomited. From that point on everything had been a blur, a cacophony of people talking and asking him questions, an ambulance’s siren and harsh beeping noises, as well as bright lights and a sea of unfamiliar faces, until someone had asked him to count backwards from ten.

In retrospect that had obviously been the moment where he had been put under anaesthetic, but at the time he had thought he had nodded off into a deep sleep. At some point in time later, Iwaizumi had thought he had heard Oikawa’s voice in the visages of his dream (if he could call it that). It had been warbled, but it had definitely been him. Something had clutched his hand as he spoke, followed by something soft brushing against his forehead. It had almost felt like—

Iwaizumi automatically reaches out for his phone on his bedside table – wanting to text his best friend and tell him that he was okay and to come over, but his hand only bumps the bare wooden surface. Now that he thinks about it, his phone is probably still tucked away in his bag somewhere, “Do you know where my sports bag is, oka-san?”

“We left it downstairs in the genkan when your father and I got home late last night—no, no, you stay right there. I’ll get it for you.”

His mother goes to fetch his bag while he digs into his meal, as his mind tries to fill in the blanks.

 

****

 

Oikawa skips both morning and afternoon practice voluntarily for the first time in his volleyball career. His parents and the coaches don’t seem to really mind, in fact they encourage it after his long day yesterday.

Somehow it doesn’t feel weird, nor does he feel guilty for not attending.

When he had woken up that morning, he had gotten tangled in the blankets and had stumbled onto the floor in his haste to get out of his bed and out of his room to the Iwaizumi household – pyjamas be damned, only to have his spirits crushed when his mother had intercepted him by the kitchen to tell him Iwaizumi hadn’t been released from hospital yet.

Peeved, Oikawa had spent the rest of the morning checking his phone for updates and zoning out of class – too anxious to hear of news of Iwaizumi to really care about anything else, until his mother had sent him a text at lunchtime saying that Iwaizumi was home and resting, according to the phone call she received from Iwaizumi’s mother a short while ago. Relieved, Oikawa had flopped against his desk and almost faceplanted into Hanamaki’s bento.

Oikawa sprints all the way to Iwaizumi’s house when the bell rings, his bag slapping against his side with each step he takes towards his destination. Muscle memory has him turning sharply around the street corner, bypassing his own home as he continues farther down the road to Iwaizumi’s front yard; taking two steps at a time to the front door and knocking hurriedly.

His knocks are cut off by the door opening to reveal Iwaizumi’s mother, sports bag hanging in her hand, “Oh Tooru-kun! How are you? Come in, come in.”

“I’m well,” he pants out, toeing off his shoes and setting his bag onto the floor of the genkan. He gives her a smile as she closes the door behind them, “is Iwa—”

“Yes he’s home, but I’m sure you already know that,” she surmises, “he’s just woken up and is having something to eat.” He peeks towards the stairs – eager to bolt up to Iwaizumi’s room, but politeness keeps him rooted to the spot.

“Go on, Hajime will be happy to see you,” Iwaizumi’s mother nudges at his side, and holds out the bag in her hand, “Would you take this up to him?   

“Of course, I’ll talk to you later, oba-san.” he takes the bag off her and power walks to the stairs, trying to resist from rushing and making a fool out of himself in front of Iwaizumi’s mother; he isn’t a five year old racing Iwa-chan to his room anymore.

From the top of the stair case Oikawa can see that Iwaizumi’s door is wide open and he rushes towards it, latching onto the door frame when it’s in reach and pulls himself into Iwaizumi’s bedroom. Sitting on the bed and eating is Iwaizumi; spoon halfway to his mouth as he turns at the sudden appearance of someone at the door’s threshold.

“Oikawa?”

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa breathes as he drops the bag at the door’s entrance. For all his hurrying before, Oikawa approaches Iwaizumi slowly and takes a seat on the side of the bed, mindful of the food on Iwaizumi’s lap, “How are you feeling?” He looks significantly better than he had yesterday, Oikawa notes happily as he eyes Iwaizumi’s profile. While his short, spiky hair is a little matted, his eyes don’t look as sunken and his skin isn’t as pale and sweaty as it had been when Iwaizumi had been curled up on the gymnasium floor or when he’d been lying on the hospital bed.

“A lot better.” Iwaizumi replies, setting his spoon back into the bowl. He goes to pick the food tray up and place it on the bed side table, but Oikawa beats him to it and does it for him.

“I don’t think you should be twisting your torso like that, Iwa-chan.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“Ah ah ah, I don’t believe you, especially after all the ‘I’m fines’ you said yesterday.” Oikawa lightly scolds, shifting further up the bed now that the food tray isn’t there to be jostled, “It’s still sore isn’t it?” 

Iwaizumi subconsciously moves over so Oikawa can fit his tall, lanky frame better on the double bed, “Yeah, it is.”

“You don’t always have to act so brutish, Iwa-chan.”

“It really isn’t that bad anymore.” Iwaizumi huffs out, folding his arms across his chest and averts his gaze from Oikawa like a petulant child.

Oikawa sighs and reaches out to rest a hand on Iwaizumi’s tanned forearm, “I have every right to worry. It’s not every day you watch your friend being carted away to hospital.”

Oikawa doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the pain-stricken look on Iwaizumi’s face before he fell nor the sound of Iwaizumi’s body hitting the floor as it echoed throughout the gym amongst the squeaking of shoes and calls from his teammates. Scary thoughts rush through his mind – what if Iwaizumi’s appendix had burst yesterday? What if there had been some complication that left Iwaizumi permanently injured or disabled?

_What if he had died?_

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi tries, covering Oikawa’s hand with his own, but he’s already too worked up from yesterday and the traitorous thoughts spelling out all the horrible things that could have gone wrong over the last 24 hours.

“No, you idiot! For all your stern lectures to me about not taking care of my knee and ignoring my body when it’s telling me it’s in pain, you go and pretend like you weren’t minutes away from collapsing from an almost-burst appendix!”

Iwaizumi gives him a sheepish look, “I didn’t think—”

“That’s right, you didn’t think! You didn’t think that maybe it could be something far worse than a pulled muscle. You didn’t think that it could be something serious enough to land you in hospital for an emergency surgery. You didn’t think of how worried everyone would be about you; how worried I was about you!” his voice is trembling and he’s also fighting back tears now; if they’re sad or angry ones he does not know, love is an incredibly frustrating thing.

Instead of arguing back like he normally would, Iwaizumi wraps his arms around Oikawa and pulls him forward so he’s awkwardly pressed against his chest with his chin hooked over Iwaizumi’s right shoulder.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you and everyone else worry about me.” Iwaizumi says gruffly, but not insincerely, “I guess as it turns out, I can be just as stubborn as you.”

Oikawa huffs a choked laugh as he buries his face into Iwaizumi’s neck. He can feel Iwaizumi’s pulse thumping strongly – it’s such a pleasant feeling, “Stupid, Iwa-chan.”

Instead of verbally responding, Iwaizumi tilts his head and places a soft peck just below Oikawa’s hairline. It’s a brief brush of the lips, but it’s warm and tender enough to make Oikawa jolt backwards in surprise.

“Wh-what—”

“I’m just returning the favour.” Iwaizumi says. His cheeks are red from the embarrassment, but he still has the gall to raise his eyebrow at Oikawa challengingly.  

“You remember that?!” Oikawa squawks, covering the sides of his face with his hands.

“At first I thought I was dreaming but—um—crap—I mean.” Iwaizumi splutters, face reddening further as he covers his mouth behind the fold of his elbow.

“You dream about me often, Iwa-chan?”

“No, dumbass, stop smiling like that.”

“Now now, Iwa-chan, don’t be embarrassed, I’m actually rather flattered.” Oikawa tries to pull Iwaizumi’s arm down so he can see his friend better, but even post-appendectomy Iwaizumi is still crazy strong and resists Oikawa’s pulling. After trying to yank Iwaizumi’s arm for a good whole minute, Oikawa gives up and flops dramatically onto the side of the bed and buries his face in Iwaizumi’s pillow. It’s not too long after that that Oikawa can feel Iwaizumi settle beside him lying on his back; his right arm across his forehead while his left carefully rests protectively over his stomach.

They lie there quietly for a while, the stress from yesterday fizzling out into exhaustion. Oikawa feels himself nodding off, but then Iwaizumi clears his throat, “Did you really beg a nurse to let you see me yesterday at the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“You got on your hands and knees?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you do that?”

Oikawa swallows then answers, “I think you know why, Iwa-chan.” He chances a glance at Iwaizumi – caramel brown eyes meeting olive. Feeling emboldened, he leans up, taking care to give Iwaizumi’s sore spot a lot of berth and places his lips on Iwaizumi’s. He feels a little let down when Iwaizumi is initially still underneath him, but not even ten seconds later he responds, his left hand coming to cradle the side of his face.

It’s no more than just them brushing their lips tentatively, and that’s just fine with Oikawa – they have plenty of time.

 

****

 

It’s a just after six when there’s a knock at the door again.

Not really sure who to expect – seeing as her husband got home less than an hour ago and Tooru-kun was currently upstairs napping with her son, she peeks through the front window inquisitively first to check, only to see two _very tall_ teenage boys wearing the Aoba Johsai volleyball team track suit.  

“Hello there.” Iwaizumi’s mother greets as she opens the door.

“Iwaizumi-san.” they both say in unison, bowing swiftly.

They’re incredibly tall, probably taller than her son and perhaps Tooru-kun, she observes with mild fascination. The taller of the two – who has unruly short curly black hair and a tired expression on his face, motions down to a bag he is holding, “Excuse us for bothering you so late, but we just wanted to see how Iwaizumi was doing. We bought some profiteroles and milk bread from the local bakery.”

“Oh how nice of the both you! And of course you’re not bothering us! Come in, come in, I’ll go get Hajime and Tooru-kun. Oh, I’m sorry, what were your names?”

“I’m Hanamaki Takahiro.” the other boy with strawberry-blonde hair and paper-thin eyebrows responds.

“Matsukawa Issei.” They both shuck their shoes off and slip their bags onto the floor.

“Nice to meet you Hanamaki-san, Matsukawa-san, would you like to stay over for dinner? We have plenty of food.”

They both agree after a bit of persuading, and she leaves them to chat with her husband as she ventures upstairs to wake up her son and Tooru. She’s a little reluctant to bother them – they had both looked so peaceful when she checked them an hour ago, but dinner is almost ready, plus she doesn’t want to keep their visitors waiting too long.

They’re both still where she left them; Oikawa curled in towards her son with his arm thrown out across Hajime’s chest and Hajime is flat on his back, his own arm wrapped around the back of Oikawa’s shoulders.  

It’s not unlike the two of them to share a bed or invade each other’s spaces – they’ve been doing it long enough for it to come as no surprise to her, but she would be lying if she said she hadn’t heard snippets of their conversation earlier.

Plus Oikawa’s _display_ of dedication the day before had been rather telling.

She knocks loudly at the door and suppresses her chuckle when they both jolt up rather abruptly, grumbling and rubbing at their eyes groggily. She tells them to wash up since dinner is ready and that two friends have come over to visit. Tooru recovers first and heads for the bathroom, while Iwaizumi staggers slowly after him. He meets his mother’s gaze, and balks at the knowing look she appraises him with.

“Not now, oka-san.” he grunts, moving by her.

“I didn’t say anything.” She turns to head back downstairs so she can set up dinner for her family and her son’s friends. It’ll be a conversation she will have to have with her son another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed my little story! 
> 
> To those that are reading Tempus Fugit, I'm currently planning out the next few chapters and should start writing the upcoming chapter over the next week or so (I've started up a new job, so it's been a little hectic finding the time to write). To those that aren't reading Tempus Fugit, give it a go ;)


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